A Journey of Sorts
by Madame Marmot
Summary: Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley visit pubs in York in an effort to confirm John Bates' story and so clear his name. The task is difficult, but they find each other's company enjoyable.


A Journey of Sorts

Seated at her sewing machine in the servants' hall, Phyllis Baxter was carefully mending one of Lady Cora's blouses. Phyllis applied herself with loving attention, as she did to nearly every task that came her way. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked up reflexively. Her calm, mild expression gave way to a smile of sincere pleasure as she recognized the face of Joseph Molesley.

Joseph himself was smiling. He felt a little clutch at his heart, as he almost always did upon seeing Phyllis. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

"Miss Baxter, I'm glad to find you here. I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, Mr. Molesley."

"The other day, when I mentioned my desire to find a witness to support Mr. Bates' story that he had had lunch in a pub in York on…you know…..that day, you said that you wanted to help."

"Yes, I remember. You indicated that my help would be appreciated."

"Very much so, Miss Baxter. I was thinking our next half-day, say Tuesday, would be a good day to start making inquiries at the pubs. Is that agreeable for you?"

"Yes, Tuesday would be fine."

"Very good then, thanks so much." With a slight bow, Joseph went on about his business, and Phyllis returned to the sewing machine to finish the task at hand.

Joseph glanced up at the sign – The Red Lion. He opened the door and gently took Phyllis' elbow to help her over the sill and into the pub.

"Let's start here, shall we? It looks as good a place as any."

They walked up to the bar and waited patiently for the barman to finish with his customer.

"Excuse me. If you have a moment—"Joseph signaled with his finger, sounding somehow demanding and deferential at the same time. The barman approached.

"Yes, sir. Miss." The barman nodded briefly at Phyllis, but kept his attention on Joseph. "What would you like?"

"Uhhh, just a question, if you please. We are trying to help a friend of ours who is need."

The barman's expression turned guarded. "No charity handouts here, you know."

"Nothing like that! Just a little information." Joseph drew a photo of John Bates from his pocket. "Would you happen to remember seeing this man in here, about a year and a half ago? Perhaps around lunch time?"

The barman took the photo gingerly, frowned a bit and then looked away, pondering. "Hmm, can't say as I have, but then I've not been here quite a year yet myself. Maybe Mr. Morrison, the landlord, would know. I'll get him." He walked away towards the back of the room.

"Well, Miss Baxter, I don't know if we have much to hope for from this." Joseph looked down at Phyllis and she glanced back up at him, a sympathetic look in her soft brown eyes.

"Now then, what's this about a man coming in for lunch some time ago?" A bluff, well-dressed man stepped to the bar from the back room. Joseph repeated his question, handing the landlord the photo of John Bates. The landlord studied it carefully before returning it with an apologetic shake of the head. "I'm fairly sure I would remember. We get many regulars in at lunch time, and I'm generally out and about, as I like to greet the customers. But I don't recall your friend. Sorry I can't help."

Joseph inclined his head politely. "Thanks all the same, Mr. Morrison. Sorry to bother you." His glance included the barman, who returned the gesture and went to serve some new arrivals. Phyllis and Joseph headed back to the street.

"They were quite courteous, Miss Baxter, quite courteous indeed. I'm sure they would have been of more help if they could."

"Certainly, Mr. Molesley. It is a pity, but then we mustn't expect success at the first strike. Consider how many pubs there must be in York, and how many patrons they must serve every day."

"Quite right, Miss Baxter. We have only just begun, and we must stick to it with a good grace. We may have many miles to go yet. Let's be on our way to the next." He led the way confidently, offering his arm to Phyllis. She slipped her hand through, and they walked in companionable silence until they reached the Black Swan, a short time later.

"Here we are, Miss Baxter. After you." Joseph again held the door and made sure Phyllis could step inside easily. As before, they went up to the main bar and waited until the barman noticed them and came over.

"Good afternoon! What will you have? A brandy and water, sir? A lemonade for the lady?"

"No, thank you. We simply have a quick question, if you'd be so kind." The barman drew back slightly, and looked as if he had time only for paying customers. Noticing the man's demeanor, Joseph quickly drew out the photo and passed it to him. "We don't wish to delay you, sir. We know you are very busy. If you could just take a look at that photo, and tell us if you recall seeing this man, maybe about a year and a half ago, maybe he came in for lunch?"

The man narrowed his eyes at them, and then turned his attention to the photo. He grunted. "Hmm! I may have seen him around once or twice, but never in my pub. I should know!"

"Are you the landlord, sir?" asked Joseph.

"Indeed I am! I do employ help but I like to keep a close eye on things myself. If the pub is open, I am here. I know most of the customers by first name, and have served all of them at one time or another. If your friend had been here, I would have seen him." He returned the photo.

"We're sorry to have disturbed you. Thanks very much for your time." Again, Phyllis and Joseph made a quick and graceful exit and went back outside. There was more of a chill in the air than there had been earlier. Again, they walked arm in arm down the street. This time, almost without knowing it, Phyllis held Joseph's arm a bit more tightly, walking slightly closer to him than she had before. Joseph noticed this immediately, and, despite the colder air, felt a warm, pleasing glow spread slowly throughout his being.

"So, Mr. Molesley," Phyllis asked smoothly, "what is our next objective?"

"Next we will try the Old Rose and Crown. The landlord there is a Mr. Robb, very nice chap, very personable." Seeing Phyllis' neat eyebrows raised in inquiry, Joseph hastened to explain. "Oh, it's not like I'm a regular there, Miss Baxter. I'm not a regular in any pub. No. But I have stopped in a time or two on my days off when personal business takes me to York. We'll see what Mr. Robb has to say. And maybe it's time we had a little refreshment, eh? We have a few more stops to make before we finish up for today. Perhaps you'll allow me to treat you to a sandwich and lemonade."

"Why, Mr. Molesley, I hardly think that's necessary." Joseph knew the indignant tone was mere theater. At one time, he might have been taken in, but not now.

"It's just lunch, Miss Baxter, nothing more. You needn't give up any of your independence. And it's a small token of my thanks for your faithful companionship on this quest."

Phyllis looked him full in the face with a bright, warm smile that chased away the gloom and chill of the day. "I'm very glad to be of help. It's the kind of work that goes much better when one has a friend along. It is very disheartening to hear 'no' so many times, even when it is courteously said."

"You are too right, Miss Baxter. It is disheartening. But when I think of the generosity and kindness that the Bateses have shown to me over the years, I would do anything in my power to help them. It gives me the strength to go on, and hope that I can find some way for them out of their difficulty. If I have to call in at every pub in York, I will. Of course, it is a much lighter task with a friend such as you." Joseph glanced shyly at Phyllis, and placed his hand over hers. She looked up at him again, and they walked on down the street as a light snow began to fall.

"I quite agree with you about helping out the Bateses. One certainly hates to see such lovely people beset with so much trouble." Phyllis frowned slightly, thinking of times when she had felt a pang of grief at the misfortunes that seemed to dog Anna and John Bates. She drew a deep breath. "But it's much better that, instead of moping about, we should take action to help them. Better for them and better for us. Do you think so, Mr. Molesley?"

Joseph thought for the briefest of moments before replying. He now had a chance to repay one good turn with another, and thereby a chance to take perhaps many walks through the streets of York with Phyllis on his arm. He felt suddenly invigorated with renewed strength and purpose. "I do think so, Miss Baxter, very much. But I will warn you. It could take many days, and many more walking trips in York before we find what we're looking for. You would not find it tiresome, would you?"

"Not at all tiresome, I'm sure." This time, Phyllis' glance was sidelong and lingering, and, Joseph thought, just the merest bit warmer than before. He drew her ever so slightly closer, and they continued on, through the softly falling snow.


End file.
